Encouragement - What She Needs
by littlegirl67
Summary: *CH 6 UP people!* :) Hermione feels someone 'walk over her grave' and finds out that just before she enters the real world, she fails the one thing that will get her there. Guess who's there to pick upthe pieces. Please R & R - I live on feedback:)
1. Exam results

If you want to be somebody,  
  
If you want to go somewhere,  
  
You better wake up and pay attention.  
  
A/N: I wrote this after a similar situation occurred with my Biology exam and my normally taciturn and emotionless teacher took the time to come and comfort me and said 'Do not lose heart.' Reminded me immediately of Severus.  
  
Thanks to all those who reviewed my first two fics – 'Interlude:Christmastime' and 'Homecoming/A Godfather's Love':  
  
Bellamine Chercoeur  
  
Eve  
  
Laura  
  
Jessie  
  
Cammie  
  
J-Kid  
  
You guys helped me to write more – needed the encouragement.  
  
Incidentally, if anyone out there would be willing to beta my stuff, or if you could recommend a beta-reader, I'd be extremely grateful.  
  
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling rocks, and these characters are hers – hands off the rest – its mine:) *Evil grin*  
  
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As Hermione walked down the hallway to the Potions dungeon with Ron and Harry, she felt a slight sense of foreboding. A shiver of fear and anticipation ran through her body, shaking her slight frame.  
  
Harry stopped in his tracks when he saw her cheeks take on the deathly pale, sallow white tint. 'What's wrong, 'Mione? Are you ill?' he asked urgently.  
  
At this Ron glanced at her fearfully and chimed in. 'Do you want to go to Madame Pomfrey? You've gone a right awful colour. Don't worry, we'll rush you there right now, won't we Harry?'  
  
'Certainly will, 'Mione. If Snape docks 20 points from Gryffindor, I couldn't care less, you look half-dead.'  
  
Hermione stopped moving under this barrage of inquiries and leant her head against the cool stone a wall. Both boys were in front of her, staring anxiously into her eyes.  
  
'No way – not happening. I'm fine!' she said 'It's probably just the after effects of exam week – dead stressful and you know how much pressure I was under.'  
  
Both boys leaning on the wall on either side of her looked relieved. All three started making their way to Snape's dungeon again.  
  
'And besides, I forgot to eat breakfast and slept right through dinner last night. I suppose I was just hungry and felt a bit faint, is all. Thanks for your worrying anyway, guys – 'ppreciate it.'  
  
Harry spoke up, relief flooding his tone, as they reached the massive door to Snape dungeon. 'Are you sure, 'Mione? Looked more than just that to me.'  
  
'Do y'know, Harry, I could've sworn one of the ghosts passed through me. 'Spect it was someone walking over my grave. Anyway, never mind that. What do you think we got for our Potions exam?'  
  
Ron grimaced. 'Some thing foul, knowing Snape. He probably had to be told off by Dumbledore to stop failing me and Harry. Don't even think of your being tarred with the same brush as us, girl, you've been top in everything so far and you're sure to be again, now.'  
  
She grinned and a blush coloured her neck upwards. 'Ah, stop your blathering, Ron. And it's ''Harry and I'' not Harry and me, she said absently.  
  
Both boys looked at each other knowingly and rolled their eyes. Harry walked into the mostly full room and noticed something. 'Hey, where's Snape?'  
  
'When you've quite finished blocking the doorway,' came the silky sarcastic rejoinder from behind them. He raked them with his disconcerting black-eyed gaze. Glaring at all three of them, he said 'Mr. Potter, I know that you think yourself exempt from the normal parameters of Hogwarts students, but as you know, strict attention is always payed to the uniform of all. I can safely call you a lost cause –your shirt is out, your top button isn't done up and, your tie is missing.' The bite in his words was enough to make the whole class cringe, Gryffindor or not  
  
'But, sir – '  
  
'But nothing, Mr. Potter. The same goes for you Mr. Weasley. The example you two set for the younger ones is atrocious, but of course, being famous Harry Potter and faithful sidekick Weasley just isn't enough these days.' Snape's voice stung like a whip.  
  
Both boys were seething at this point, Ron's face was as scarlet as his hair and Harry's was a near likeness. Their chests were heaving with the effort of keeping silent and Hermione looked with undisguised disgust at the sour Potions professor. She quailed and some of her earlier light- headedness made a hasty arrival when he turned to her.  
  
'All I ask of you, Potter, is that you do not drag the innocent along with you. You cannot place a clover blossom in bracken and thorn, they will only hurt her and tear her to shreds. And as you know, I do not suffer fools, or intolerable, unfeeling little boys gladly. 20 points from Gryffindor should settle that. Sit down.'  
  
For one second his penetrating gaze softened as he took note of her unnatural pallor and wide, defiant brown eyes. Then, before the class could make anything of it, he schooled his features back into their mask of surly, arrogant countenance.  
  
'I have marked your Potions theory exam from last week and have coupled it together with your Practical mark. Both marks are at the top of the paper, as is your overall percentage. The results were disappointing to say the least, but then for some people that is the norm.' He glanced pointedly at Harry when he said this. 'Mentioning no names at all – Potter.' The Slytherins snickered. Draco Malfoy looked especially pleased with the field day Snape was having with Harry.  
  
Snape reached to get the sheaf of papers from his desk and plonked them down in front of the nearest person to him. 'Hand them out,' he barked.  
  
Hermione started to whisper soothing nothings as soon as the Professor went to sit down at his desk and kept her arm on Harry's for comfort. Ron, though angry himself was glancing apprehensively at Harry, who was sitting, head in hands at the desk. All that could be seen of him was a forehead the colour of rouge.  
  
When Hermione saw him begin to calm down in the midst of the slightly feverish chatter of the class, she relaxed her stiff posture and turned her anger to the sullen Potions professor. Oh, she hated him. But wait, he was brilliant intellectually and had, on more than one occasion, engaged her in challenging debates. Why, in the name of Merlin, did he have to maintain his despicable, desperate façade of sarcastic terror. If it was a façade, of course. She just didn't know.  
  
While waiting for her expectedly brilliant paper, she stared at her desk contemplated more on that melancholy subject: Snape. Didn't he know of the fragile state of mind they were in after the gruelling two exam weeks? The papers and Practical tests had been exhausting, as had the never-ending days because as soon as they were over, they had to go and practice or revise for the following days exams, usually never going to bed. Oh, wait a sec, of course, that's why he picked on Harry and Ron in the first place. Insufferable git.  
  
She looked up at him and found him in the same position as Harry, except that he looked bone weary. I wonder why, she thought. If he hadn't insulted them she would have found it in her to feel sorry for him. His long fingers rested on his temples, as if trying to rub away a headache. I can understand that, she thought wryly – she'd resigned herself to having a permanent one during the exams and it still lingered strongly now. At least I can expect a fine Potions mark – I worked my socks off for it, and he isn't that biased against me…  
  
Dean passed out Harry's paper and then gave Ron's to him and hers to herself. Before she broke the privacy seal on it she watched Harry and Ron do theirs. They pressed their index fingers against the powerful magic seal and opened their papers. At exactly the  
  
same moment they yelled out 'I passed!!' and gave each other high fives in high spirits. She laughed good-naturedly as she watched Ron try to ruffle Harry's hair. They stopped and turned to her.  
  
'Even after what that slimeball said, I passed, 'Mione! Thank Circe for Dumbledore,  
  
'spect I wouldn't have gotten it if it wasn't for him,' said Harry .'Aren't you going to open yours? Or are you that confident that you passed.' He winked at her.  
  
'Oh, all right. I was just going to anyway,' she murmured and stuck her right index finger into the seal and it disappeared. She opened the paper…  
  
Hermione stared, wide shocked eyes at the top of the first page. In elegant calligraphy was written 42%. Very disappointing, Miss Granger. What happened? Please see me at the end of the lesson.  
  
She felt the flush of shame creeping up her skin and the voices around faded into echoes. The blood rushed to her ears…How could I have failed? What happened, indeed. I studied day and night for that exam because I knew it was going to be hard – Snape's never easy. Even if I had that awful headache, I should have passed. I'm a fool… Hot tears stung her eyes and the shame and pounding in her head was becoming unbearable.  
  
'Hermione?'  
  
'Mione, what's wrong?'  
  
'Hermione, answer us – the bell's rung – it's lunchtime – time to go.'  
  
''Mione, why are you crying. What did you get?'  
  
At the urgent concerned sound of the boys' voices, her mind snapped back into focus. How did this happen – these are my final exams.  
  
'I failed,' she said dully, watching the other leave the dungeon. 'I've got to see Snape about it, now.'  
  
'We'll stay – if he tries to rub it in…'  
  
'No, please, both of you – just go. Let me deal with this. On my own.'  
  
''Mione, wait, you need support.'  
  
'Leave it, Harry. Go to the hall, I'll meet you there.' Her heart was beating so slowly and loudly in her chest, she thought it might stop altogether.  
  
Both boys left the room with doubtful looks on their faces. She watched them wrestle with their inner feelings to the door and finally leave. Squaring her shoulders, she mustered up all her remaining dignity and walked her long way up to Snape's desk. Merlin, give me strength…  
  
  
  
He looked up from the marking he was doing, stood up and walked towards her. He stopped only inches away and looked deep into her eyes. The unusually tender and understanding expression on his face was unbearable. She felt her knees go weak under the scrutiny and turned her face away, feeling the single tear drip from the well in her eyes. Surprisingly, a warm, calloused hand drew her face back to him and her chin was tilted so she had to meet his black, black eyes…  
  
She broke and lifted her hands to her face as the first shudder coursed through her. When he saw her body begin to heave, he pulled her to him, letting her face lie on his broad chest, and wrapped his arms securely but gently around her. The sobs wracked her body again and again as she cried out her despair, her anger and frustration. She let herself melt into him, giving in and losing her inhibitions. She needed that little love he was willing to give. The pressure of being who she was and being the best was flung to the winds – finally. The shame of failure wasan excruciating burden and she was all too happy let him take it off her already weighted shoulders.  
  
He waited until he felt her crying lessen, all the while stroking her thick hair and rubbing her back. Then, he seated her in a chair and pulled up another right beside hers and put his arm around her shoulders. She couldn't meet his eyes again.  
  
Snape's normally harsh, biting admonitions had vanished and in its place was the soothing, comforting tones that got through to her.  
  
'Miss Granger, Hermione, if I may – ' When she nodded her assent he continued, 'Do not worry, child, you did not fail the exam.'  
  
'What? But I did, I got less than 50 percent – ' her voice trembled again as she thought of it.  
  
'No, you didn't. I know you, Hermione. You studied within an inch of your life for it, as you have for any exam.' He looked at her pointedly  
  
'But – wait, you mean I was…' Hope injected red into the sickly white pallor of her skin.  
  
'Yes, my child. You were sick – from where I was standing you had a severe headache, as you still do, and an elevated temperature. I didn't send you to Poppy Pomfrey be cause it was the final exam and you would have fought me tooth and nail not to get you out the exam hall. I couldn't risk you getting worse.  
  
Hermione sat dumbfounded, her silent tears drying on her cheeks. So I was sick, she thought – I thought I must be but fobbed it off as the pressure. Slowly, her amazement turned to the teacher sitting so close to her, as if she might fall if he were far away.  
  
'You cared? You, Professor Snape, the man who only gives a damn about a bona-fide Slytherin, cared whether I was well or not?'  
  
'Of course, Hermione. Certain friends of yours have made my reputation what it is - have led you to believe that I would not help a sick child in need. I know that if you looked into your mind and heart you would find enough common sense to believe it to be untrue. As long as I am a teacher at this school, my students will always be my primary concern – especially ones who have that extra brilliance in Potions. You're a bright, girl, in case you haven't noticed.' He smiled and rubbed her lower back comfortingly.  
  
'Yeah, well, I don't about that…' she said ruefully and looked up at him. Straight up and unflinchingly looked into the black depths. 'Thank you. I don't know how else to say this, but 'thank you' seems so insignificant. I needed some reassurance and consolation – you don't get much of that the top. People expect you to lean down and give them a helping hand without thinking that some support would've been nice up there.' She gave him a quick hug and stood up. Her face was red and blotchy and her eyes were red- rimmed. He stood up as well, taking his cue from her.  
  
'Promise me you'll go directly to Madame Pomfrey. The exams are over and you need to recuperate and get that illness seen to. I believe in you and always have – you can retake the exam at your own leisure,' he said, as he watched her gather her papers and stationary and cram them into her bag.  
  
At that she looked at him and a genuine smile began to spread across her face. Her eyes lit up and she grinned until she couldn't anymore. 'I promise I'll go – oh, thank you so much! You've eased my mind, I thought I wouldn't have another chance.' She walked to the Potions dungeon door with him, his fatherly hand resting on her shoulder, curled around her neck.  
  
Snape called out to her just before she walked out – 'If you start stressing yourself out on this exam or damage your health by working too hard, I swear Hermione, I'll be that upset and take my belt to you.'  
  
Rather than being scared by the threat, she turned one final time to him, puzzled. 'You don't wear a belt.'  
  
'Exactly.'  
  
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A/N: If you think this is going anywhere or have an idea of what should happen, please review and tell me, or write to my email at loveroflife67@hotmail.com 


	2. Hug or a Kiss? Hug, please. Part A

Hug or a kiss? Hug, please. – Part A  
  
A/N: I nicked the 'perform fellatio and sodomy' part from Silence of the Lambs, which I watched recently – 'Hannibal' pales in comparison to it – great film, loved Dr. Lecter.  
  
Plant a review if you liked or hated it – I enjoy dissecting flames and using constructive criticism.  
  
A humongous 't'ank you very much' to the guys who reviewed my first chapter(  
  
Disclaimer: J.K.Rowing has more imagination than all of the adults in my world put together and these are her characters. Her world, though, is amazing nd the chapter you read is what comes of my stroll through it.  
  
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Snape's Point of View  
  
Snape stared at the heavy oaken door Hermione had just escaped through. His hand brushed the air, just where her cheek would have been, had she been standing in front of him as she had a minute ago.  
  
He drew his hand to his face and opened it, looking straight into the palm. Svelte noir eyes ran over the ridged calluses, noting the shiny acid burn down the side and the overall roughness of the large palm.  
  
He turned it over and surveyed the front, grimacing at the over-large knuckles. With his left hand, he traced the point of a knuckle right up to the nail, cut carefully so none of the non-aesthetically pleasing potion ingredients would deign to remain under them. He raised his hand to the hooked nose he had broken as a child and breathed in deeply. Clean tang of soap – the harsh detergent that solely could take away the odours and stain of the various substances he came into contact with. Pulling his right hand away from his face he glared at it. Hands of a potion-maker. Hands that had touched and soothed the now-absent, broken girl opposite him. A sardonic smile cracked his face, that grew wider as he realised that was twice that a grin had tugged at his lips in one day. Strange what one lonely girl could change after spending just twenty minutes under his care. Under his care, what a laugh. Ha ha.  
  
Walking back to his desk, he started to neaten the straggly pile of examination papers on the surface. He sank into the oddly comfortable (tired in your old age, Severus?) chair behind the desk, rested his elbows on the arm-rests, steepled his fingers and began to contemplate the last twenty five minutes. Such a deviation from his normal, prime-evil thoughts after a class with Harry Potter in it.  
  
His thoughts came to rest on his last words to Hermione. Did I really just say I'd belt her? Merlin's teeth, I can't even keep my tendencies of domination to myself. Not to say I didn't mean it, of course. Bowing his head forward and bringing his chin to rest on his hands, he closed his eyes and sighed. A deep one, straight from his black heart. Well, it's a sight better than what Father did to me…  
  
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Hermione's Point of View  
  
Hermione shook her head from side to side in sheer amazement as she shut the Potions classroom door. Who would've thought, Professor Severus Snape, the true picture of Salazar Slytherin himself, had a heart? Of course, she reminded herself, that was a picture that had been enthusiastically painted by her friends – all true Gyffindors and eager to wage war with the Slytherin house. Damn, didn't anyone know how hard it was to find the truth?  
  
She began to walk slowly towards the end of the corridor that would take her to stairs, which led up to the Great Hall. From which she'd head straight up to the Hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey, at Professor Snape's orders.  
  
She let loose a nervous giggle at the thought of Snape's parting words – dear Merlin, he wouldn't do *that* to her, would he? There was only one way to find out, and hell would freeze over before she would test the strength of his hand. A slight shiver shook her lithe frame at the thought – no way would she let that happen. It was bad enough, when she arrived home for the holidays – her Dad thought she had too much of a free rein at school and promptly got her manners in order to suit him. But at school? Hell, no.  
  
Realising that she'd spent a huge amount of her free time in the hallway, she quickened her stride and had almost reached the wide, stone stairway when something stopped her. A hand.  
  
A very large hand, in fact.  
  
That was soon joined by another which slammed her into the wall nearest to her. Hermione gasped in shock as she felt the hard wall slam into her back with a resounding impact. Whack…  
  
Her head began to spin and she saw stars, falling into pain-filled bottomless well, almost reaching the still water…then her eyes snapped back into focus and she collected herself enough to see who was leering into her.  
  
Blond hair, ice-cold grey eyes full of sadistic pleasure. Draco Malfoy, who else? And his goons, one on either side. Great.  
  
Malfoy put his hand on her mouth, stifling her protests and watched her eyes widen in terror. 'Look boys, it's Granger, best student in the school, Potty boy's Mudblood-lover and now, Snape's whore. See – look at her all flushed, Snape's been having his evil way her. Hold her for me.'  
  
Crabbe and Goyle gave a grunt in unison and pushed their weight into her sides. Goyle placed his foul hand where Malfoy's cool, soft one had been. Seeing that trying to muscle her way out this, would only get her more bruises, she lay still and eyed Malfoy coolly and raised her chin in defiance. He only looked mildly surprised.  
  
'Ah, that's right, Granger – you're a true Gryffindor – never one to run in the onslaught of danger. Tell me, slut, are the rumours correct? Did you honestly fail one of your final exams, and are you on the verge of breaking down?' He ran his tongue over his lips and watched her face redden in anger.  
  
'So it is true, then? Dear old Snape must have been patting you on the back and whispering in your delectable ears, that everything was going to be all right. Or did he ask you to do something else?'  
  
When light dawned, and Hermione understood what Malfoy was insinuating, she finally began to struggle, trying not to think of the picture that had been planted in her mind. Malfoy, however, was having none of it. 'Hold her tighter, boys.'  
  
'Is baby Hermione not mature enough to cotton on to my meaning? I want to know more, Granger. Did he ask you to perform fellatio? Or, perhaps he sodomized you? Does he have a nice, big prick, Granger?' He laughed wickedly as he saw the tears spring into her eyes at his cruel words. He gave another low chuckle as he ran a finger down the side of her face. 'Just a little warning, dearest Hermione, of what might happen , should you be so foolish as to promenade the hallways alone again. Let's go, boys.'  
  
And with that, the two hefty sidekicks grunted and let go of her aching shoulder and Goyle took his hand off her mouth. She couldn't speak. 


	3. Hug or a Kiss? Hug, please. - Part B

Au Clair De Lune  
  
A/N: Thanks a whole bunch to all the people who reviewed my first and second chapters – especially Pretty Flower (twice!) and Chrissy – I came to the same conclusion 'bout the scream!  
  
Incidentally, I'm still looking for a beta-reader, haven't gotten any offers or recommendations yet. If you could be bothered, or you know of someone who could, please give me the head's up on them – Thanks.  
  
Disclaimer: Listen to the 3rd movement of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata - I am, now – its magnificent, and the only thing to compare it to is the fine imagination of Ms. J. K. Rowling. These are her characters, though everything other than their names is mine.  
  
Merci beaucoup pour la lecture. Ecris-moi un 'review', s'il vous plait.  
  
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Hug or a Kiss? Hug, please. Part B  
  
A shrill, piercing, heart-rending, soul-tearing scream rang through the dungeons of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
House-elves scurrying around in a house-keeping frenzy, stopped and went unbelievably still, clutching at each other for support – so agonizing was the sound.  
  
The several odd students lingering through the hallways in the dungeon levels halted, most dropping books and bags.  
  
Professor Dumbledore in his ancient but luxurious office lifted his wizened grey head from the dusty tome he was poring over, the usually twinkling eyes alarmed. The magnificent phoenix, brilliant in red and gold plumage, let out an undignified sour note of panic upon hearing the scream and fluttered down to Dumbledore. He heaved himself at great speed up form his plush chair and out of his room-of-work and hurried down to the Hospital Wing. He had a feeling…  
  
Professor Severus Snape's head jerked up in surprise. One thought, one fearful, heart-stopping thought flashed through his mind. His usually agile, though now, unthinkably paralysed body dashed through the Potions classroom door, almost breaking it down, so hastily did he fly through it. Hermione---  
  
Hermione sank down to the rough, stone floor. What just happened? She failed her final Potions exam, Professor Snape threatened to belt her, and now, three boys – no – despicable, vile, vulgar things had bruised her arms and whispered crude, unimaginable, things in her ears. The thoughts in her head ran round and round, making the blood rush to her ears and her knees weak. No, no, no, no…  
  
Her hands came up to hold her head and she began to whimper. The whimpers grew louder in volume and her whole body started to tremble, literally quaking in fear and shock. She rocked back and forth, trying to make some sense out of the past few minutes. Over and over again, the thoughts chased each other in her mind, playing a cruel game of tag, cramming together, making her feel as if her head was going to crack open. An old rhyme her mother used to chant – 'Round and round she goes, where she'll stop nobody knows…'Help!' she croaked, her voice drained and beaten. 'Somebody, please help, I can't move…'  
  
She felt so weak, the events had followed themselves, one after the other and she'd been ill, anyway. How much could a girl barely sixteen cope with? In the deserted hallway she waited – rationality, a second nature to her was still only a finger stretch away. Someone must have heard that desperate scream, it was just a question of who would find her first.  
  
Doubt, though was also a second nature – she was one of life's perpetual worriers, a nervous effect of being as brilliant at academia as she was. Would somebody help, would someone come? And she was so very tired, just wanted to shut her eyes, it would all be over then – just stop, finish…the pain could end, if only until she woke. Why was it so tempting? Couldn't it only be expected, and encouraged? Why did it feel like she was doing something wrong? Blackness, spots of it, filled her vision, the floor she had been unseeingly gazing at blurred. Teetering over the edge of an abyss…  
  
'No---Hermione! STOP! Don't shut your eyes!' A yell brought her to her senses, accompanied by the head-banging pounding of running feet on a stone floor. Who in the name of Circe? Her eyes opened dreamily to the most appreciated sight she had ever been privileged to see – Professor Severus Snape. He came. He was the only one who came. Thank the gods…  
  
He stood over her, a towering, living statue of Man. His chest heaved from the effort of getting to her fast enough, his cheek length, lank hair was mussed all over the place. And his eyes, they were the most welcome sight of all, for they held his apprehension, his fear of her being harmed, his anger that she was hurt enough to have to scream, and his palpable relief at seeing her relatively unscathed and in one piece. All the emotions so carefully stifled under normal circumstances. Dear Merlin, how his heart had leapt into his throat, when he saw the light in her eyes begin to slip away. Could never, ever have let it happen…  
  
Snape crouched down to her level and clasped her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes for any sign of the blankness that had almost taken her over. 'Hermione. Hermione, look at me,' he pleaded, 'what happened, love? Who did this?' Where was Dumbledore, surely the girl's distress couldn't have gone unnoticed?  
  
'Professor Snape, it's you, I didn't know you'd come. I was so afraid on one would help. I…' she trailed off, aware that she was rambling. The shuddering intensified, her relief was so clear. She looked up at him with ravaged, almost blood red eyes, the swelling around them a bruised purple colour from burst blood vessels. Even squatting next to her, he was taller and she had to tilt her face upwards to meet his eyes. 'I can't move.'  
  
At that, at the pitiful picture of her mahogany-brown eyes, the ones that had held some dignity in them that morning and at the sorry statement that was uttered, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her for all she was worth. All he wanted to do was dispel that startling air of fragility that surrounded her and penetrated her being. His strong arms formed a soft but unshakable barrier around her and she was enveloped in his warmth. Such a clean smell…  
  
As she leaned her head against his chest, he gently dropped his arms, the left encircling her upper back and the right, snuck under her legs, supporting the backs of her knees. He whispered softly, knowing instinctively that his usual stentorian tones would alarm her no end. 'I believe, child, that there was a little trip I had told you to make earlier. One that, I think, now, should be made by the both of us.'  
  
And with that, he swung her carefully into the air, lifting her as she uttered a half-sob/ half-laugh at his words and curled her frail arms about his neck. He strode up the winding staircase, along corridor after corridor, passing the busy Great Hall, oblivious to all and sundry, students and teachers as he carried his own sick pupil to the Hospital Wing.  
  
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A/N: Sorry if it's a bit shorter than normal, school's being a right bugger at the moment.  
  
If you could tell me what you like or hated – any kind of feedback's always welcome, so give us a buzz. Thanks. 


	4. Here Comes The Sun

A/N: A million thanks to all who've read my fic and more thanks to those who were kind enough to review it.  
  
  
  
Don't you ever feel that you're so tired and you just want to blank out the memories and just forget? That's what I wanted to put into this chapter - 'twas what I was feeling all last term, 'cept I didn't know how to let it go. Well, I finally found a way…  
  
  
  
By the way, the 'drop of rain' thing was directly lifted from Laurie R. King's "The Beekeeper's Apprentice" which was recommended by "Pawn to Queen" author, Riley (she's great!). It's a fantastic book, as are the subsequent ones in the series. Laurie. R. King has also written another series, the Kate Martinelli one - do go and have a read, she's an amazing writer.  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joanne Rowling. What I do to them and what I write about them is my own business.  
  
  
  
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Here Comes The Sun  
  
  
  
As Snape strode down the hallway leading to the mahogany Hospital Wing door, he felt the snug weight of the limp girl in his arms - she weighed less than he'd thought at about 105 pounds. Her head lay against his chest and he could smell the clean tang of lemon in her hair. He leant his head down, nose and lips almost touching the silken honey-brown mass of hair, wanting to breathe in it more. She smelt so good…something within him stirred. The last time this happened seemed eons ago - his desire had dwindled down to naught, a mere flicker of what he once could feel, and now, it hand suddenly flared up again…  
  
  
  
He caught himself and jerked his head, rearing away from the tempting thought. 'Twas forbidden. Damn it, Severus, she'd just a sick little girl (regardless of whether she's blossomed - new padded parts and such) and there you are wanting her, he thought irritably. Trying to shield her innocence, he hoisted her slightly higher, ignoring the raw protest of his well-defined muscles.  
  
  
  
Hermione, though, seemed unaware that her saviour was having difficulty keeping his growing need under wraps - all her concentration was focussed on fighting the urge to close her eyes and be pulled willingly into the bottomless pool of numbness. The fact that she was in the Potion Master's arms brought her only slight discomfort and a modicum of embarrassment; the relief that her quivering, useless legs wouldn't have to toddle her body to Madam Pomfrey was her foremost in her mind.  
  
  
  
Above all, she hoped that he would not question who had finally broken her, she was having great difficulty trying not to think about that - the words were so hurtful. On top of everything else as well. The problem was that she knew, as soon as she gave a minute of her time to that disgusting incident, her emotions would run wild and she'd just let herself go. She just wanted to blank out the memories and forget it had ever happened. But she couldn't. What her parents had taught her - keep a stiff upper lip, never wash your dirty linen in public - were things that had been her mantra. She had controlled herself so far and had been successful at keeping her feelings in a tightly barred closet - she quelled the burning anger and shame and indignity that coursed through her veins. The only thing to do was to pull the bolts from the door and let water cascade from the floodgates. Trouble was, she couldn't do it. How hard can it be to lose control?  
  
  
  
At that instant, Snape coasted to a stop in front of the Hospital Wing door and was about to launch himself sideways against it, to make it open, when it was pulled inwards by itself. Actually by Professor Dumbledore, who stood slightly hunched, as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders.  
  
"Ah Severus, I thought you'd find our Miss Granger. Hurry, Madam Pomfrey is waiting - no, hush, don't say a word, just go," he intoned tiredly.  
  
At the sound of the less familiar voice, Hermione raised her head and whispered, "Professor Dumbledore, I…"  
  
He bent over her and stroked her cheek. "Not a single word, my dear, Madam Pomfrey will give you the release you need first. Then, later, we will talk," he uttered tenderly, and then Pomfrey bustled into the room.  
  
  
  
"Severus, lay her down on that bed over there, loosen her tie and take off her socks and shoes. I've just got to heat this up one final time," she commanded, her concern for the girl with the wane face that matched the ivory sheets on the bed. Then to Hermione, "Don't you worry, dear, it's almost ready, you can rest in a moment."  
  
  
  
Snape arched a single dark eyebrow at the demand but said nothing. Instead, he muttered words in Irish Gaelic, words that seemed like a cool breeze on her feverish forehead, while he laid her down on the soft mattress and untangled her damp hands from his neck. His hands lifted her ankles one by one, and pulled off her shoes and socks, holding each fragile white foot as if they were made of porcelain. She hardly felt his calloused hands rubbing the insteps and arches of her feet, before he roamed upwards and put his long fingers on her neck, resting them on her collarbone. She felt his eyes on her perspiring face and his warm, spicy breath on her forehead as he carefully undid the knot in her tie and slowly removed it from her stiff collar. He looked at the heavenly white skin of her chest, leading to hidden, unknown depths, which were revealed inch by inch as he unbuttoned her top two buttons. He felt his throat constrict. Both started abruptly when they heard Madam Pomfrey's voice from behind them.  
  
  
  
"All right, dearie, drink up - no, don't worry, it's only the Immediate Relief Draught." the matron sat on the side of the bed and helped Hermione raise herself. "I only give it to persons in dire situations, and whatever you've been through, lass, this'll help you." At that, Hermione downed the searing burgundy potion in a single gulp. Warmth spread through her system, invigorating her feeble limbs, yet giving her the helpless tiredness that one feels after a long day. There was only one thing for it. She shut her eyes.  
  
  
  
"There, now. Lay back, that's it. Let me put this quilt over you." Madam Pomfrey busied herself with the task, almost ignoring the two worried men who were watching. Emotion welled up in her eyes at the thought of what must have happened to get one of the healthiest girls in the school into such a state. "There you go, lass, you sleep now, we'll take care of you."  
  
  
  
With sleep hanging over her in a foggy haze, Hermione found it impossible to open her eyes, so she let nature run its course. She turned over onto her side, away from the three adults, and snuggled up in her quilt in a foetal position. Almost a minute later, her breathing became deep and even and regular. All three adults let out sighs of relief at the sight turned towards each other. Madam Pomfrey mumbled something about washing her face and hurried from the room.  
  
  
  
Professor Dumbledore broke the still silence. "Severus, I must find out who has done this to her - no, do not accompany me. This is business that I must take care of myself. And, I don't think you, yourself, are that eager to leave Miss Granger's side."  
  
  
  
"No, sir, I will not leave her. When she wakes, I will be there. Albus.... when I saw her, I vowed retribution on whoever had laid a hand on her, and I intend to follow through on this. The moment you find anything, please inform me - the little bastard who left her like that…wh did that...." Snape was pacing up and down, fury evident in every step. He was livid, absoluetely livid. His anger was the white, cold type, slow to rise but when it did nothing could quiet it except blood and perhaps, a slow, slow death of the perpetrator, though of course, all within legal bounds. And he wanted both.  
  
  
  
Dumbledore took a step towards him, and clapped a hand on his shoulder, stopping his angry pacing. Dumbledore looked into his black eyes and saw the identical irate glint in them. "We will find out what happened to her, Severus, and believe you me, he or she will not be let off lightly by any means. Now, stay here and watch over her." He turned and rushed out of the room, belying his ancient accumulation of years, blue robes flaring behind him.  
  
  
  
Severus said to the empty room, his voice low, "You need not have told me to, Albus. It was, nonetheless, what my intentions were, after all."  
  
  
  
**~**~**  
  
  
  
Warm, sultry night air fluttered through the open window and caressed the faces and hands of the two people in the cosy one-bed room in the hospital wing. The stars were, indeed, bright that night, as was the moon. It illuminated the sallow face of the man who sat on the window seat and stared out at the constellations, the sombre darkness somehow giving him solace from the thoughts that ravaged his mind. The world had gone so wrong…..  
  
  
  
The other figure was huddled under bedclothes and hair that fanned out around her, almost shielding her face. Her cheeks were rosy with sleep and her long, chestnut-brown eyelashes formed half-circles on them. Hermione slept fitfully, and tossed and turned before waking fully and sat upright in the bed, chest heaving. Her eyes flicked back and forth about the room until they found the large figure of the curled-up man with a blanket wrapped around him. He turned away from the breath-taking view and started slowly to her bedside.  
  
  
  
"P-Professor Snape, wh-what - " she said sleepily, reaching an arm out, groping for her glasses.  
  
  
  
"Shhhh, Hermione. It's all right, child, I'm here. Go back to sleep." His deep baritone voice pacified her nervous stuttering and allowed her enough consolation to lay back again. His fist held up her thin wrist and he tucked the stray arm back under the blanket.  
  
  
  
It soothed her even more when he began to utter the flowing Irish Gaelic words again, which fell over her like calm brooks did over stones, soft and rhythmic. He put his hand on her forehead, its welcome pressure making her close her eyes.  
  
  
  
It was then, at that moment when she shut her view of the world, that she realised what she'd seen in the pale moonlight on Professor Snape's cheek. However, it was so ludicrous that she dismissed it at once, blaming it on her befuddled mind or the blurred vision caused by the absence of her glasses.  
  
But she could've sworn that there was a drop of rain on his cheek.  
  
  
  
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A/N: You like? Give us a shout if y'do, thanks. 


	5. There She Goes

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long, school and a touch of writer's block made me late *bangs head on the wall*  
  
Beta Note: This chapter was written days ago, I just take forever to beta- the penguins made me do it... the kangaroos too....  
  
Anyway, here's the references: `pardon my French' is from Pay It Forward, as is the `rat-bastard' part (the character Kevin Spacey plays in it is awfully like our Sev.)  
  
The `Expelliarmus' situation was taken from The Prisoner of Azkaban, `cept they did it to poor old Snape.  
  
Also, a great big t'ank you to Chrissy, my illustrious beta - thanks a whole bunch :)  
  
(Beta note: I luv you too hun! Note to self- look up illustrious... lol... I do know what that means don't worry!)  
  
More heartfelt thanks goes out to the readers and reviewers of my fic - trust me, this wouldn't have gotten as far as it has without your support. ^_^  
  
Disclaimer: Character names are J.K.Rowling's, though every other word on this page belongs to a chubby Indian teenager with her head in the clouds. (me, ladies)  
  
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There She Goes, There She Goes Again  
  
The Great Hall was buzzing with gossip. As with any school, the scandalous chitchat formed a grapevine through all the years, inextricably linking the students together. With Voldemort on the brain, most people found that the best way to take their minds off things was to indulge in the senseless rumours always to be found. The current question that was bandied about the hallways concerned all Gryffindors in particular.  
  
Where was Hermione Granger?  
  
"Where on God's green Earth could she be, Ron? I mean, we leave her to be demolished by Snape, our first mistake, I reckon, and then we forget all about her in the face of that row over Pansy Parkinson being found in bed with - "  
  
"Will y'leave his name out of this, Harry, for cripes' sake, he's already being sent to Coventry for sleeping with a Slytherin," hissed Ron, who was extremely disgruntled at the thought of Hermione missing. "I'm dead worried about her too, an' all, but there's no need for that to be good reason to let our tongues wag. I mean, look at the vultures - "  
  
He flicked his head in the direction of the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy and his goons were jabbering away, telling anyone and all who'd listen that he knew that whore Parkinson was a wretched little slut of a turncoat.  
  
"You're right, Ron, bugger all." Harry was loath to admit this and ran his hand through his already untidy hair ruefully.  
  
Ron thumbed his over-long nose at him and folded his arms across his chest. "Aren't I always," he grinned smugly. He turned to the right, an age-old habit, to where Hermione usually sat and caught himself. He sobered instantly and turned back to Harry. "Anyway, what d'you say to this - if `Mione doesn't turn up for breakfast, we'll go see McGonagall or even Professor Dumbledore."  
  
Harry grasped at the ideal solution, guilt beginning to flow in his veins. "Best idea you've had in months, Ron. Honestly though, how could we have been so - ," Harry was cut off in mid-sentence by a lengthy shadow falling across the table. The hair on the backs of their necks rose, prickly with sensation, someone's looking at us...  
  
Boring holes, with his keen, metallic-grey eyes, into the base of their skulls, more like.  
  
"So where's the Mudblood then, Potty? Good to see you, Weasel, you can shut your absurdly thick mouth now, being a codfish really doesn't suit you." Draco Malfoy's sardonic drawl made both boys' faces redden and Harry's mouth twist in annoyance.  
  
"What the fuck do you care, Malfoy, if you'll pardon my French." Harry stood up to match his height, reaching perhaps a couple of inches shorter than the silver-blonde boy opposite.  
  
"Yeah, Malfoy, what do Hermione's whereabouts have to do with you?" demanded Ron, also getting to his feet, his lanky frame greeting Malfoy's. "Though, I swear, if you've got any reason to be asking, just you wait - "  
  
"Funny, you Gryffindors seem to be overly fond of swearing. And why, may I ask, should I wait? Dispatching someone as pathetic as yourself, would be a job only to easy for me to complete. And unlike you, boys, I need not soil my own hands while doing so." Malfoy's insidious tone heightened Harry's mounting anger, while his lip curled at the thought of what he was leading the fools to. (Beta's Note: Sorry... I know it's in the middle of this fic... insidious is such a cool word! I only used it once though.... in a History Project last year when I said 'insidous libal' but i still think it's a really cool word. Yes I am a freaky loser.)  
  
Harry, surprisingly, let a smirk spread across his face. "Speaking of sidekicks, where're yours? Lost, perhaps? Left little Draco to wander about on his own?" He leant over to Malfoy's ear and said, "You little rat-bastard, you're alone, just like you always will be, and as soon as we graduate, my personal dream will be to see you on the wrong side of Azkaban bars." Harry's voice had dropped a notch and was heartfelt with menace.  
  
Malfoy flushed and his eyes narrowed to icy slits. "My, my, aren't we the typical brash Gryffindors today. And I just seem to recall saying that to another mindless fool - a female - "  
  
A stronger, rather more dignified voice cut through his threatening diatribe, magically magnified and had an unheard-of edge of steel to it. All eyes in the Great Hall turned towards Professor Dumbledore. Malfoy, Harry and Ron halted their rising tête à tête. Each person present stopped short, oddly captivated by depth of emotion that seemed to be radiating from him. Paradoxically, his shoulders were hunched, yet his back was ramrod straight and his arms were held up in a gesture of appeal. Even the swirling galactical depths of the ceiling seemed to stop their drifting nebulae, just to hear him speak. And `speak' he did. (Another B/N.... SO MANY BIG WORDS!)  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, students, I wish to have your attention. Thank you. It has come to my attention, that unfortunately we have would-be rapists and thieves among our community." As shocked gasps and whispers ran rife through the Hall, he continued, his words suddenly clear to Malfoy. "Yes, I say thieves, because these disgusting persons have stolen a girl's confidence and her trust. As I have come to understand it, they just halted only moments before taking her innocence as well." Dumbledore paused for his words to take effect and looked over at Ron and Harry, the shock registering on their faces as they stood dumbstruck, the dawning comprehension starkly clear.  
  
"Let me assure you that these perpetrators will be caught and not be spared. They will NOT get away with this outrage!" Dumbledore's voice crescendoed at this point, thundering with plain anger. "They will not only be expelled from here within a moment's notice of their identification, they will also be reported to the Ministry of Magic, where all Aurors and magical peoples will hear of their fall from good society. Their reputation will be tarnished beyond repair, and if they are of age, their bodies will rot in Azkaban."  
  
At this, the Hall was impeccably silent, not a sound to be heard. Malfoy's face had been flushing darker and darker at the onslaught of Dumbledore's words, till it was almost purple. His eyes flickered from Dumbledore to the Hall entrance and back again. Thinking no one had noticed, and his fear apparent in his actions, he began to back out of the hall, slipping through the throng of students.  
  
Fortunately, two people had their eyes very firmly fixed on his retreating form.  
  
"Draco Malfoy, I suggest you do not take a single step further." Dumbledore's voice rumbled through the Hall, striking fear into the most innocent of persons, so ominous was his tone.  
  
Malfoy, however, was having none of it. In full blown panic, he ran to the Hall doors, his long legs carrying him further away from justice until -  
  
"MISTER Malfoy, if you take one more step, I shall not be responsible my actions, and believe me, any one of the Unforgivables come to mind for a criminal such as yourself. You will stay exactly where you are, unless you wish to experience pain. Rather a lot of it, actually." Snape's voice rang out through the Hall, clear as a bell and furious as all hell. Most students cringed in the face of Snape's obvious wrath and every syllable of his words held an undercurrent of rage and white righteous anger.  
  
Malfoy pivoted slowly, turning to face the irate voice. His eyes locked with Snape's, shards of death-like noire against strangely calm grey-ice. Then, almost in slow motion, Malfoy's hand delved into the front of his robes, searching frantically for his wand...  
  
"EXPELLIARMUS!!!" Draco Malfoy slumped to the ground, a trickle of red contrasting severely with the unnatural white pallor of his skin.  
  
About ten or more different people had yelled the Disarming charm simultaneously, Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Harry and Ron being confirmed parties of it.  
  
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A/N: Yikes! Sorry to be so abrupt, still churning out more, just wanted to upload some of it.  
  
If you liked or hated it or couldn't care less, do give us a review - I live for `em, and when they don't come I kinda wonder if it's all worth it. ^_^  
  
B/N: Next time I'll try not to have so manys B/N's throughout the story... I just couldn't help it! 


	6. Only Time/Baker, Baker

Baker, Baker  
  
I Know Him So Well  
  
Only Time  
  
A/N: My various inspirations are above. It's odd, isn't it? I spend the entire week moaning about writer's block and when does my muse choose to hit me? At midnight, just as I'm about to drop off. Ugh. Anyway, I went to bed at about one thirty, at peace finally because my muse had been satisfied.  
  
References: The 'blarney' and 'explaining matters of importance to sick women' I got from my Irish Physics teacher - such a dear old leprechaun, really is a darling. The 'Quid Pro Quo' was nicked from, of course, Silence of The Lambs. Dr. Lecter's amazing, isn't he?  
  
Thanks to the numerous people who read and reviewed since my last post and all the ones who did before that - you guys keep my spirits up when everything else is grey. Pretty Flower - gosh, didn't know you were Catholic (sorry, there's a shortage in my part of the world), I can understand about Mass which is why I went on Ash Wednesday.  
  
More thanks goes out to Chrissy, beta-extraordinaire - she's wonderful.  
  
Disclaimer: *Glares at all the faces in a lack-of-sleep haze* Apart from character names it's...my work, mine!!! (said in a petulant tone.)  
  
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Encouragement-What She Needs: Chapter 6  
  
Baker, Baker/ Only Time  
  
Hermione could hear voices just on the edge of her consciousness. They were so far away, yet her awareness of them stubbornly remained constant.  
  
She didn't want to get up.  
  
The warm, secure haven she was curled up in was a great deal cosier, and staying there forever seemed a grand idea. She tugged the blanket tightly around her, kept her eyes firmly closed and willed the voices to go away.  
  
They didn't.  
  
Oh, stuff it, she thought and began push back the thick bedclothes, feeling the slight chill in the air as she did so. There were two rather solid weights nestled near her sides, making the mattress sink in those areas. Two faces appeared, blurred like a heady dream as her eyelids slowly lifted for the first time in around twelve hours. They were on either side of her, one a shocking red, the other a mess of black tufts.  
  
Putting her hand over her eyes to shield them from the light, she said sluggishly "Harry, Ron, hi, what's going on? What time is it?" During her volley of questions, she snaked an arm out for the familiar fumble for her glasses. Both boys immediately shut up and rose from the bed, the flurry of conversation turning in a fussy dialogue that Mrs. Weasley would have been proud to utter.  
  
"Hermione, you're finally awake---"  
  
"Gosh, we only found out about everything today---"  
  
"Else we would've been here sooner--"  
  
"How're you feeling?" Both boys chorused in unison, looking at her concernedly.  
  
Hermione just stared at them, as they started to tuck the blankets which she had thrown forward earlier back around her. She started to chuckle, giggling even more when they stopped their fussing, looked at each other and Harry mouthed "Barmy". It was quite therapeutic actually, it seemed a long time since she had laughed in carefree abandon. She finally stopped and both boys felt it was quite safe to settle themselves beside her again.  
  
As she tried to sit up, Harry held her forward by the shoulders while Ron fluffed her pillows and arranged them so they supported her back. She leaned back and looked at them expectantly. "Well? Glasses, anyone?"  
  
Harry jumped up, grabbed her glasses and passed them to her, an almost relieved look flitting over his face as he heard the question.  
  
All three friends stared at each other, the boys with tense anticipation clear in their faces and stiff stance.  
  
Silence.  
  
`Okay, you two, what's the matter? Why're you looking like I'm about to eat you? I'm not Snape, I assure you..."  
  
The boys turned to each other. Ron blurted "You tell her, you're better with the blarney and explaining matters of importance to sick women than I am." She ignored him focused her attention on Harry while he wrung his hands, a nervous habit, cracking the knuckles of each hand as he got up and started pacing. Easier, he supposed, than meeting her eyes.  
  
"Come on, Harry, give over, you're scaring me now. What in Merlin's name is going on?" Unconsciously her own hands started to fiddle with the curls that ran down the side of her face, twisting and winding them round her fingers. At long last Harry stopped pacing and faced her, his startling sea-green meeting her challenging brandy-brown ones.  
  
He began to spin his tale. "A lot's happened since you dropped off last night, 'Mione, and not all of it good. Bad news first---"  
  
She held her breath, utterly unaware of what had taken place that morning.  
  
"Snape's been suspended from his duties as a teacher until further notice and placed under house arrest. That's why both he and Professor Dumbledore aren't here. Snape's probably lurking in his quarters in the dungeon levels and Dumbledore's trying to get him out."  
  
Her mouth dropped open, stunned. He must have been furious to let that happen, she thought. "Why? What'd he do? How could they suspend him? He saved me, Harry, I was---" she babbled before he cut her off.  
  
"I know he did but there's nothing me or Ron can do about it. There was a confrontation in the hall this morning." His green eyes were flashing dangerously at the thought of Malfoy.  
  
"Dumbledore and Snape both realized it was Malfoy who threatened you about the same time we did, and as he tried to get away a bunch of people Disarmed him and knocked him into the middle of next week." He gave a low chuckle. "Ron and I yelled Expellarimus, as did McGonagall, Dumbledore and Snape, 'cept we got detention and fifty points taken off Gryffindor for using dueling charms against a fellow student." A satisfied look crossed his face and he folded his arms across his chest and sat down next to Ron, who decided to take up the yarn.  
  
"It was worth it, 'Mione. When we realized that the swine who did that to you was Malfoy, we wanted to have a real go at him, and he just gave us the excuse when he started scrabbling down his robes for his wand. McGonagall says it wasn't our place to stop him, an' while she understood, she couldn't set that example to the young'uns."  
  
Hermione glanced down at her hands while she tried to take all of it in. And found a red herring. "You're not telling me something. That doesn't explain why Snape was placed under house arrest. Spill."  
  
The boys looked at one another helplessly. She glared at them more fiercely than she had intended and Harry gave in unwillingly.  
  
"He threatened to use the Unforgivable Curses on Malfoy, he was that angry, and the board said he endangered the lives of other students while doing so. Basically, it's Malfoy Senior doing the talking. Malfoy was expelled and shipped off home the moment after we Disarmed him, as were Crabbe and Goyle. Lucius Malfoy was just saying his son had been knocked out by Snape and used his influence with the board."  
  
Hermione had tensed up during the tale and at this, sank back onto her pillows. She looked at them incredulously. "And you have no problem with Snape defending my honor?"  
  
Harry leaned over and took her right hand while Ron patted her left. Ron directed him. "Tell her."  
  
"We were narked about it, yeah, and then we figured that what ever he did, he'd done it because he cared about you. And, Hermione, you are one of the most important, special people in our lives." Harry's voice choked a little, "If anyone tries to hurt you, we can't let it go unless we've maimed them in some way, and that's how Snape felt. He protected you when we couldn't and since that guarantees your safety, we don't have a problem with it." A muscle jumped in his jaw when he said it and Ron's face turned fire-engine red.  
  
What Hermione didn't see was Ron's hand curling into a tight fist behind his back and Harry kicking his ankle twice to make him articulate and reiterate what Harry had said. He uncurled his hand and brought to the fore to hold Hermione's.  
  
After crossing some rapid internal conflict that wasn't visible on the face of things, Ron spoke up quietly, intense for once. "You're a sister and best pal rolled into one. And that's how we want it to stay." Both he and Harry held her hands, not letting go.  
  
There was a lump in Hermione's throat and her voice cracked when she finally spoke. "You guys had one heck of a chat while I was asleep, didn't you?"  
  
Both grinned, perhaps a little sheepishly and rose from the bed. "Get some rest, 'Mione, we'll sort out much as we can out for you." They left, Harry leading while Ron shut the door behind him.  
  
Hermione snuggled into the bedclothes and contemplated what she'd just heard.  
  
For an only child, I'm kind-of lucky to have two over-protective brothers of the same age. As well as a sour, domineering yet stimulating savior. Oh Merlin's beard, he must have been really furious to do that...and began to chuckle quietly. I've got to find a way out of this for him. Quid pro quo, Professor Snape. You help me, I'll help you.  
  
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*Yawn* Off to bed. *Yawn, again*  
  
A/N: Feel free to review, and I'll handsomely reward you and grovel at your feet if y'do, thanks.  
  
B/N: You people better review this wonderful work of literary art! But anyways, on to what I had planned on saying..... I don't believe that Harry and Ron even use proper grammar so when they slur their words I'm leaving it that way but I will not leave their grammar to be a horrid mess even though that's how they would speak. Personally, I just can see Harry and Ron walking around nit picking each other for improper grammar and the like.... can you? 


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